Five times Jan Thinks
by Nighthawk-Moonshadow
Summary: ...[is afraid] that Michael might be the one. MichaelxJan fic. Prompt Fic written for a friend on LJ. R and R if you wish!


1.

On their second day in Jamaica, Jan wakes up to find an arm wrapped around her torso and Michael's soft breath on the back of her neck. The room is dimly lit, sunlight (Jamaican sunlight… she still can't believe it) peeking through the blinds. It casts a beam onto the bed sheets in front of her (technically that whole space is for her, but she'd much rather be where she is now).

She stares at the mattress for a few minutes, running a hand over the floral design of the coverlet. As she finishes counting the pink flowers in her mind (tropical of course, this _is_ Sandals Jamaica after all), she feels his breath change to a sleepy yawn and then a chuckle. A "g'mornin" is whispered in her ear (she's missed those waking words of lovers for a while now), and the arm around her torso pulls her closer to the warmth.

"Ready for a fun day?" he asks, planting a kiss on the back of her neck. She nods into his mouth, warm breath tickling her back (how she's missed this!)

Slowly, he removes his arm and they sit up. She's surprised to find his eyes closed when she turns to face him (he has pretty cute morning hair), and is about to question him when he speaks.

"Go ahead and use the bathroom. I won't look."

One of his silly, lopsided grins is on his face as he sits quietly, staring into his eyelids. She watches him for a moment; slightly shocked, until he notices she isn't moving and reaches out, estimating where her shoulder is but instead poking her collarbone (she notices that he makes sure his fingers go high enough to avoid her chest at all costs.)

"Come on Jan, I'd like to see you for at least a little while today."

She smiles and moves, the sheets falling away to expose her nakedness. Michael falls back, thumping against the pillows and resting with his arms behind his bed (she'll be damned if he isn't pretty sexy in this pose). His eyes remain closed.

She goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower head, hot water cascading into the white linoleum tub below. She steps inside, letting the water soak into her skin. The dull thudding of the droplets relaxes her, losing her mind in thought (while she shampoos, of course, Jan is nothing if not efficient.)

Michael's attitude towards her nudity is surprising. In the beginning of her relationship with Gould (even in Jamaica it seemed, she couldn't escape him), he would watch her walking around the room, whistling and calling her "a sexy piece of ass." (How the fuck had they lasted so long?) She'd say nothing, just blushing and running into the bathroom or grasping for a bathrobe. Towards the end of their relationship, he would simply stare, saying nothing (he looked a little like Hannibal Lecter when he did this, but she had never found a head in their freezer.)

But Michael seems to understand Jan. Even someone like herself has reservations about their body, and is hesitant in letting someone see her so exposed (so vulnerable, and Jan Levinson _never_ lets anyone see her vulnerable.) There are different attitude towards nudity that Jan takes between the escapades of the night and the morning after. They'd been partially dressed when the lights went off, and there hadn't been enough light from outside to see much afterwards (not that she needed to see Michael unhook her bra with his teeth, it had sent shivers up her spine, and then a bit of pain when he'd bitten down on her accidentally instead of the material). Instead that night had focused on the sensations of _feeling_: bodies mingling in sliding and groans and heat, and then _tasting_: skin and sweat (and other fluids that need not be named).

Michael seems to know Jan's hesitations (how he could know this and not other things, she'd never figure out), and respects this by allowing her the dignity of dressing without an audience. He respects her wishes (he respects her).

She finishes and walks out of the bathroom, wrapped in one of the white towels hanging on the rack. Michael has brewed a pot of coffee and is back in bed, sipping a cup and holding another out for her. "You look good in white," he says, grinning at her and offering the cup.

She watches him for a moment, taking in his smile and his face and his form (his oddly wonderful form), and smiles to herself. She walks over, taking the cup and placing it down on the bedside table. As he watches, she removes his cup from his grasp and places it next to hers.

"Jan?" He's looking at her quizzically. "What's wrong?"

She smiles and lets the towel drop (and appreciates the pleased gasp immediately afterwards). She will let herself be vulnerable this once.

2.

She hangs up the receiver, rubbing her brown in frustration (when is he ever _not_ frustrating?) Michael's incessant blabbing over how sorry he is about getting a lap dance was driving her crazy. When he started getting cheeky and calling her "the best GD (abbreviations. Really Michael?) girlfriend ever," she had to hang up to keep from snapping at him.

She stares into the cold cup of coffee on her desk from this morning and sighs. She's got work to do, and worrying about him becoming a blubbering mess over something that doesn't even bother her (too much) will do her no good. She picks a paper off the looming pile and begins scribbling.

Really, she thinks, she's got no reason to worry (that she'll admit). She knows Michael's antics by now, and a stripper would not be out of his abilities. It doesn't bother her (it does) that he got a lap dance. It annoys her (It comforts her) that he gets so concerned over something so trivial (so huge). In the end, she's glad he was honest, but it doesn't mean anything (it means more than she can express). After all, Jan isn't the jealous type (she'll kill any woman who goes after her man).

When a bouquet of flowers arrives the next morning, addressed to "the best GD girlfriend ever," she tells herself that while it's sweet, it doesn't change anything (it gives her the assurance she needs). Still, she can't help but chew her lip thoughtfully (nervously) as she stares down at the petals. It's no big deal, but she can't help but think it might be (it makes her wonder about things she never thought she would).

3.

They're at her sister's house. Heather invited her for Sunday dinner, and insisted she bring any and all "important men" in her life. When Michael asked her what time Josh Porter would be arriving, she swatted him playfully and told him to put his pants on so they could leave (afternoon sex makes her giddy).

They've just finished eating an enjoyable dinner. Michael and Jonathan were conversing excitedly about some sports event through the meal (well, Jonathan was excitedly blabbing; Michael was nodding as if he actually knew what the other man was talking about). Michael wanders into the living room with Heather's kids (twin boys, aged eight. Heather tells her that the terrible twos have nothing on this stage of life), while Jan enters the kitchen to help her sister and brother-in-law clean up. The plates are whisked out of her hands, and she's pushed out of the kitchen, told to leave the cleaning to them (Heather was always a bit of a control freak) and to go relax with Michael.

She finds him sitting cross legged on the floor, a boy on either side. There are three controllers hooked up to the video game console on the floor, and each male has their eyes glued to the TV. It's some kind of racing game, and Jan watches as the twins wipe the floor with Michael (she suspects that he is trying to lose after falling off the same cliff for the 50th time; though with Michael, you can never be sure). George, the boy on the left, jumps up with a whoop as his car goes over the finish line first, his brother close behind, and Michael still back on his second lap (Jan prays he's a better driver on actual roads than on virtual ones).

Michael gets up and turns to her, grinning. "Your nephews should be in NASCAR, they're quite the little speed demons." She grins back at him as they force the controller back into his hands for another round (she would've never suspected him to be such a masochist).

After the next round, George has won again. While he does his victory dance around the room, Paul, the other twin, turns to Michael with a curious look on his face. "Mr. Scott?" he asks, tugging on the sleeve of Michael's jacket.

Michael turns to look at him. "Are you and Aunt Jan married?" he asks, eyes round (and wide) as dinner plates. George stops jumping and turns to look at the two, waiting for a response.

"Oh, uh…" Jan speaks up, trying to explain their situation ("he's my boyfriend but I'm also his boss, which leads to a lot of issues," just doesn't seem like the best answer). Before she can respond however, Michael cuts her off.

"Shhhh," he whispers loudly, motioning for George to come closer so he can hear. The two boys huddle around Michael eagerly. "Don't tell Jan," Michael whispers, (loudly enough for Jan to catch). "We're already married, she just doesn't know it. I'm trying to keep it a secret for a little bit longer so she doesn't kill me when she finds out."

The boys dissolve into a fit of giggles. Michael looks back at her and gives her a wink before calling for another race (three out of five!)

Heather comes in and stands next to Jan during the middle of the next game, wiping her hands on a dishcloth as she watches the group. "He's pretty good with kids, isn't he?" she murmurs to her sister, patting her on the shoulder. "That'll be good if you ever have your own."

Jan can say nothing to this (Frankly, she thinks, nothing needs to be said).

4.

Her head is pounding, and her throat is on fire. The toilet bowl has become the new home for her face (and it's not even high school). Her legs are tucked under herself, and her hands grip the sides of the bowl weakly as another torrent billows up from her throat and deposits itself into the marble receptacle.

One hundred and three. She hasn't had a fever this bad in years. Jan Levinson doesn't get sick (or sick enough that a little makeup doesn't mask everything). She knew something was wrong this morning when she woke up and couldn't even stand without gripping the table. Her first sick day in years. She hopes her secretary can handle the office on her own (it's not like she's had to do it before, which is what worries Jan the most).

An hour later, she thinks she might be able to go back to her bed. However, her stomach apparently isn't as empty as she thought it was, as her head is forced back over the bowl.

When she comes back up for air, she hears something moving outside in the hallway (and unless she's hallucinating, she's never kept a pet). She hears footsteps coming down the hall, and her heart jumps into a frantic beat (great, sick and robbed on the same day, what else could go wrong?)

"Jan?"

"Damnit Michael," she coughs, watching the door swing open to reveal his form. "At least call out before you come barging in, you scared me half to death." She notices the bags in his hands (an angry cartoon man of Arabian descent is on the side of one) and gives him a questioning look.

"Sorry Jan. Don't tell my boss, but I stopped by my girlfriend's house to help her out after I heard she was on death's doorstep." He gives her a cheeky grin and puts the bags on the counter of the sink.

"No, Michael," she tries to insist as he walks over. "You're supposed to be at your office, working."

"Already taken care of," he says, wrapping an arm around her torso and helping her to her feet. "I've left Dwight and Jim in charge and told them that I'll be back at the end of the day."

"Oh great," she mumbles sarcastically as he walks (more like drags) her down the hall. "How long will it take before Jim encases Dwight in a Jell-O mold?"

"You've lost your breakfast but still retain your humor. Jan Levinson, you really are the best girlfriend ever." They're in her bedroom now. He helps her climb into bed and tucks her under the covers before looking around. "Any vomit in here I need to mop up?"

She shakes her head and settles back into the pillows, mumbling "made it to the bowl in time." Her eyelids are heavy, and the energy she's had to use for vomiting has left her exhausted.

"Get some rest, I'll have lunch ready when you wake up," he says, giving her a kiss on her forehead. She's asleep minutes after he leaves the room.

When she wakes up, she can smell something wonderful coming from the kitchen. There's a glass of water on the table next to her, which she picks up and drinks greedily (the taste of vomit hasn't fully faded). The door to her room opens a few minutes later, and Michael comes in, bearing a short tray table with a bowl and a glass of orange juice on it. "Soup's on," he says, placing it in front of her.

"Where did you get this?" she asks, picking up the spoon and giving it a taste. Wonderful warmth invades her mouth, and she thinks it would be even better if she could actually taste it, but her taste buds have been temporarily killed by the fever.

"Ever watch Seinfeld?" he asks, walking around the bed. He gently sits on the other side and scoots over until he's lying next to her, arm draped over her shoulders. "Remember the Soup Nazi dude? You know, 'no soup for you!' I found out that it was a real guy! So I totally had to go get soup from him after I heard about it."

"How'd you find him?" she asks, taking another bite. She feels strength returning to her weakened body with each spoonful (Nazi or not, the guy makes a damned good soup. It's actually curing her inability to taste).

"Well, Dwight looked him up for me and got me Mapquest directions to his store. There are like six of his stores in the city though, so I ended up finding one before I got to the one Dwight had looked up. He wasn't there, but I got a picture with the cardboard cutout of him that's in the store." (Of course, she thinks. Another celebrity for Michael's _Celebrities I've Sort of Met_ Photo Album.)

She finishes the soup and orange juice, feeling a lot better. Michael takes the tray back to the kitchen and returns to the bedroom, carrying DVD cases with him. "I hope you bought something besides bad lesbian porno," she says, giving him a grin. He puts on a mock pouting face in response.

"But Jan, lesbian porno is the perfect cure for a fever! Besides cowbell!" (Oh Michael, must you use overdone SNL jokes?)

Later, she's fallen asleep while they're watching _Break Point_. The next thing she feels is Michael pulling away from his spot next to her. She mumbles incoherently, opening her eyes to see scrolling credits. Michael takes the movie out of the machine and walks over to her, giving her another forehead kiss. "I've got to get back, they're expecting me sometime," he says. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" She nods, and he leaves.

The clock says that it's sometime around six (why did he stay so long?). That's means he won't be back to the office until around eight (he should've left earlier). Given the general chaos expected from leaving both Dwight and Jim in charge, she doubts he'll be finished with his work until about eleven or so (he shouldn't have to stay so late). He'll stay tonight until it's finished, since he doesn't want Jan to have to deal with any incompetence on his part when she comes back to work.

Sometimes, she thinks, she doesn't know how lucky she is to have him around (she doesn't know, but she's still thankful for it).

5.

It starts when she gets and envelope in the mail. They've been dating about eight months, and it's the first time he's sent anything in the mail to her home (the office is always easier to reach her at). Her address is scrawled in his handwriting, a loopy cursive that looks like it's trying to fly off the page. She opens the letter and tips it over, a dozen plastic rings dropping onto the counter with a note. She picks up the paper and reads.

_Dear Jan,_

_Sending this in the mail 'cause I can't email plastic!_ (she's going to stop his bad jokes one of these days…) _We're getting everybody in the office rings in celebration of being the #1 branch_ (how he pulled that off, she'll never know) _in the region. Since you're the best boss ever, you get one too! Try on the rings and send me back the size._

_Love,_

_Michael_

She picks up the plastic circles, chuckling to herself. She's been the same ring size since high school (her class ring and old engagement ring are in the same plastic bag in her jewelry box). In a moment she sends him an email, thanking him for including her, reminding him about the limit he can charge on the company card for this, and also reminding him about their dinner that night (she always was a good multitasker).

As she drops the plastic rings into the garbage, a thought comes to her mind, but she brushes it away. He couldn't possibly be thinking about that, could he?

She picks up the plastic circle that fits her size and slips it onto her left ring finger. The feeling is familiar (she's always feared that putting a ring on that finger again would be repulsive, but instead it feels oddly comforting). Giving a shrug, she lets the ring fall back into the garbage and turns back to her work.

Two days later, she gets a call from Dwight, asking her to come to the office on Friday for a little celebration of the branch's success. She hasn't expected a party, and asks how they plan to cover it under the company's budget.

"Oh we don't need to worry about that Jan," Dwight says, giving a little scoff. "Michael is paying for it. He says that it is a very special occasion and it needs to be perfect."

After he hangs up, Jan stares at the phone for a moment, pondering. Michael isn't against paying for parties, but usually he at least tries to weasel his way into getting the company to pay for it (and rarely succeeds). She wonders why he would insist on paying, unless…

No, she thinks. You're going crazy (but her heart beats a little faster at the idea).

On Thursday, she calls into accounting to ask how much Michael is asking to cover the cost of the rings. However, the person she speaks to tells her that Michael has not charged anything to the company card (at least, nothing relating to this. The accountant has a few questions about his other purchases), leaving Jan to wonder why he is paying for the rings as well. Why is he going to all this trouble, and paying for this all himself? Surely this couldn't mean that much to him? Unless it's for something more important… having to deal with ring sizes... (Her head spins at the thought.)

Friday comes, and Jan is on the road to Scranton. The entire drive, she plays the possibility of what Michael might do over in her head. Will he do it? If he does, will she accept? What would that be like? (She won't admit it, but it's one of the best feelings she's had in a while.)

She pulls into the parking lot and makes her way into the building, giving a cheery smile to the security guard (it startles him so much that he almost knocks his coffee over). When she walks into the office, she's expecting him to either be hiding behind the desk, waiting to shout surprise, or down on one knee.

Instead he's mingling with the other office workers, joking about something that happened during the day. Her heart sinks as she sees people walking around, wearing similar looking rings and wearing party hats.

Why did she get herself so worked up over this? It's no big deal (it is, and she knows it). Michael spots her and comes over, holding a small red box in his hand.

"Jan, baby, you're here!" he says, giving her a hug and a kiss (everyone knows about their relationship. Hell they all probably knew before she did). "I'm glad you made it, I was starting to worry I'd been stood up." He gives her a grin, winking for the cameraman in the corner as he does.

She gives him a halfhearted smile in return. "Here's your ring," Michael says, holding the box out to her. He looks so eager for her to open it. But she really doesn't feel all that up to it at the moment. Taking the box, she pockets it.

"Thanks, I, uh, need to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." His face falls, and he starts to protest.

"But Jan-"

"No Michael," she says sharply (she winces; she hadn't meant to be that mean). "I'll be back in a few minutes." Turning, she walks briskly into the break room and through the bathroom door (she doesn't notice that every eye in the room is following her.)

The first tear appears as she grips the counter, hunching over the sink in the dull glow of the eighty watt bulb (what were you thinking Jan? That he was ready? That he'll ever be ready? He's Michael. For all he is, he's still the insecure, uncommitted man he always was). She's glad that she's alone in the room, she hates it when women try to comfort each other during these types of things (she sort of wishes Pam was here. The other woman knows about how hard it is to wait).

The weight of the box in her pocket is killing her heart. She takes it out and drops it onto the counter in front of her (it's such a pretty box. It seems too expensive for some little company ring). The box seems to stare up at her, mocking her and her hopes. She can't let it get to her though. She's got to go out and put on a happy face. She picks up the box and opens it (she needs to wear it to be an "encouraging superior figure." Stupid company bull…)

The thought fades on her brain, and she cries out in shock (Oh my god… Michael…)

Tucked into the soft silk of the little box is a shimmering engagement ring, diamonds bursting with reflected rainbow light on a platinum band (she won't even try to count the karats). It's like all of her hopes coming together in one tiny thing, and the tears this time are from absolute joy (and relief).

"Please don't flush that, it's kind of expensive!"

She hears him calling from outside the door, and pearls of laughter escape from her mouth at his words. She turns and practically lunges for the door, opening it to find him standing there, a desperately hopeful look on his face (he always reminds her of an overly optimistic puppy for some reason). "Well?" he asks. "Will you marry me?"

Her face drops for a moment into a frown. "You're a cruel bastard for fooling me like that, you know?" she says (her smile is still sparkling in her eyes.)

He knows her well enough by now. "I'm guessing that's a yes?"

She gives another laugh and swats him on the shoulder before wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing him into a deep kiss. There are hoots coming from their left, and they break the kiss to see the entire office cheering them on. Michael takes the box from her and removes the ring, tossing the box to the side and slipping the ring on her finger (it's the best fit she's ever had).

She pulls him back into another kiss, and feels herself being lifted up as he grasps her by her waist and spins her around him (it's like a movie, and she's the heroine who finally got her man).

They are surrounded in a moment by the office workers, offering them both hugs and congratulations. (Pam gives her a wink, and Jan decides that she's going to get that girl a boyfriend if it kills her. She deserves it. Dwight slaps Michael on the back, blubbering like an infant, with Angela at his side. They came out as a couple months ago, and all agreed that however odd it seemed, it worked, so it was best not to question it).

In all the chaos, Jan can't help thinking about the future. She's a little scared (she's not afraid to admit it anymore). Looking at Michael however, she decides that being a little scared is good (and with Michael by her side, the future isn't as scary as it once was).


End file.
